


Omerta

by delires



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-07
Updated: 2011-06-07
Packaged: 2017-10-20 05:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delires/pseuds/delires
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur has been sent to make sure Eames takes care of things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Omerta

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this incredible [artwork](http://visualcomplex.livejournal.com/124291.html) by visualcomplex. Warning: violence and poor knowledge of all things mafia.

Eames already has the cigarette tucked between his lips when he pats down his pockets and discovers that his lighter is missing.

The night is cold and it is dark. It has been raining for hours. Eames’s coat is already soaked and he can feel the damp starting to creep through the cotton of his shirt and right down to his bones. He is standing beneath the awning of a butcher’s shop. The place is closed for the evening; the meat hooks in the windows are empty of carcasses.

Through the pounding rain, Eames does not hear the footsteps approaching him. When a lighter appears suddenly before his face, opening and igniting with the swift flick of a strong wrist, it takes Eames a moment to realise that the hand holding it belongs to Arthur.

Arthur is Cobb’s consigliere. His credentials for the position are faultless. Mob blood runs thick in his veins. He is third generation Sicilian, with a grandfather who (despite outwardly claiming to ‘know nothing’ about the St. Valentine’s Day Massacre) for years kept a bloodstained police uniform hanging in his wardrobe. Arthur is ruthless, dashing and meticulous and has Cobb’s absolute trust. Eames has been dying to fuck him since the first time they met because he is everything that Eames wants and everything that he wants to be. 

Today, Arthur has been sent to make sure that Eames takes care of things.

Eames lets his fingers brush against Arthur’s knuckles, under the pretext of steadying the already steady hand, as he leans into the flame and sucks his cigarette to life. Arthur pockets the lighter as Eames exhales and smoke curdles the air between them.

“I didn’t know you cared,” Eames says.

“I don’t.” Arthur turns away from him to scope the street with beady eyes. “I just thought you might need something to settle your nerves.”

“Are you calling me a coward?” Eames asks.

“I’m calling you a novice.”

This statement is true, which is why it makes Eames’s lip curl.

Eames is a petty thief and an Englishman. He should not by rights even belong with the family. Everyone knows he only got the chance to make his bones because he did Cobb’s wife a good turn when she was in some trouble back in London. Everyone knows that Cobb only made Eames a Capo because Mal was whispering in Cobb’s ear on his behalf.

Now, there is an unspoken belief that it is only to be expected that the soldier who is leaking information to the rival Cobol family is a member of Eames’s crew. Of course, everyone agrees that it is unfortunate that it took Mal’s death for anyone to so much as smell a rat, but there is also a feeling that Cobb has gotten exactly what he deserves for backing Eames in the first place. It is a feeling which Arthur almost certainly shares.

It makes Eames’s blood boil.

The glow of the streetlight catches the sharp lines of Arthur’s face as he pulls a Beretta from beneath his jacket.

“Shall we get on with this?” he says, inclining his head towards the bar.

Eames has not finished his cigarette, but he nods. He flicks the cigarette away and the hiss of it being extinguished is swallowed by the clatter of the rain.

They burst into the bar with suitable drama. The place is mostly empty but Antonio would have been easy to pick out anyway, since he is the guy making a desperate dash for the fire escape.

Arthur collars him before he can get far. Rick, the barman, holds the door to the back room open for them and as Antonio is hauled away the others in the bar are already starting to settle down again, clinking glasses and shuffling hands of cards.

Antonio begs. He flinches in the rickety chair when Arthur shouts at him. He trembles as Arthur prowls around him. When Arthur grabs him by the balls, Antonio cries out, calling on the Madonna for mercy.

“You’re about three squeals too late for mercy,” Arthur says, and spits on him.

Eames was there when they found Mal’s body. He saw Cobb cradling her crumpled limbs.  So, he feels no pity when Arthur slams the barrel of his Beretta across Antonio’s face and blood from Antonio’s mouth splatters against the tile.

“Eames,” Arthur says, commanding, and Eames steps forwards. He flicks the safety off his pistol and points the muzzle between Antonio’s eyes.

Antonio is weeping now. “Please,” he gasps, staring up at Eames, “please.”

Eames shakes his head. “You’ve disappointed me,” he says. Then he shoots Antonio in the head.

Arthur wipes his hands on a handkerchief and looks at Eames in approval. He has not a hair out of place, although there is one tiny drop of blood spoiling the white of his collar. He licks his lips as he tucks his gun away, so calm and unruffled. Eames wants to throw him down and ruin him against the hard tiles.

Antonio’s body has slumped sideways off the chair. Arthur steps right over it on his way out. They leave the body for Rick to take care of - this is well within his skill set.

Eames still has his hand on his gun, fumbling it away behind him as he holds the door open for Arthur.

“Shall we trouble Rick for a drink?” Eames says, a little bold and breathless from silencing the rat. “Will Cobb miss you if you stay?”

Arthur raises an eyebrow. He turns towards Eames, just outside the door.

“You’re asking me to have a drink with you?” he says.

It is because Arthur has his back to the room. Eames knows this is the only reason Arthur is not the first to notice when a man on the other side of the bar gets suddenly to his feet, with one hand thrust inside his jacket. It is because Eames’s hand is still already half-curled around his gun. He knows this is the only reason he manages to shoot before the other man has quite drawn his weapon. That Eames manages to nail the guy with his first bullet is entirely down to the fact that Eames is a damn fine shot.

Arthur’s eyes go wide. He whirls around in time to see another man stand, and then another, and another. All of them Cobol’s family, all of them deadly.

Everything around them turns to chaos. Tables are overturned, playing cards scatter through the air. Rick is bleeding on the floor.

Glass rains down from the shattered lights. The bar is chipped and the walls are patterned with blood.

And then suddenly, everything is still.

Eames pivots quickly, one way and then the other, scanning the room along the sights of his gun, looking for movement, unable to believe that nobody is left. Arthur steps into him, so that they are back to back, covering the whole room between them. Eames can hear the gentle gasp of Arthur’s breathing, not so calm now.

Gun smoke hangs eerily in the air.

Eames lowers his gun and glances back over his shoulder at Arthur, whose cheeks are flushed and lips are parted. His eyes are bright. Eames can smell him, charged and vibrant, like the air after sex.

Arthur licks his lips and says, “About that drink...”

Rick has no pulse and his eyes are glassy, so they take a bottle of scotch from behind the bar and get away from the scene as quickly as they can. Eames drives.

“Cobb will be pleased with how you took care of things,” Arthur says from the passenger seat, and he reaches across the gearstick to slide one hand over Eames’s thigh. 

In a hotel room far across town, Eames learns that undressed and unholstered, away from Cobb and the family, Arthur’s mouth is just as wet as anyone’s. And when Arthur comes, he crumbles and falls apart, just like everybody else. But Arthur begs far more prettily than Antonio, so Eames promises never to tell.


End file.
